


Make me break

by MyLadyDay



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, Skinny! Steve, winter soldier - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-31
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-03-09 20:19:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3263084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyLadyDay/pseuds/MyLadyDay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was warmth, he was strength, he was the world in Bucky’s arms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make me break

**Author's Note:**

> this is the result of seeing temariart's drawings of skinny steve and the winter soldier

The silence was broken with a soft sigh of a sound, resonating through the darkness. He stilled as soon as the door creaked open, sitting on the edge of the bed as if he were caught doing something he shouldn’t have been. A silly notion, considering everything. Light spilled through the open door, shining as far as the bed, almost touching his bare feet settled on the carpet. His eyes burned after spending so much time in utter darkness, but he couldn’t look away, not when the silhouette in the doorway, outlined by the painful brightness, was the only comfort he was presented with in the midst of his own madness.

“Steve.”

The word left his lips before he could think about it, whispered into the light that was just shy of reaching him. That, at least, was familiar. Steve, with his small body and pained breath, bathed in light as if he were the sun itself while Bucky attracted nothing but darkness. With a sad smile, he looked away, averted his eyes to the floor because, as always, it became too difficult to keep his gaze trained on the way Steve’s skin shone. It was the only way to keep himself from reaching out, seeking out the warm touch of light he somehow managed to live without.

Just as swiftly as it came, the light drained from the room, leaving in its wake a night far darker than it had ever been before. He breathed in relief, the weight of another’s presence lifting, but a sudden chill prickled at his skin, making his hair stand on end. It was always darkest and coldest after you’re graced with the warmth of the sun, wasn’t it? Still, he wasn’t a stranger to darkness; it contained the pain and the danger, kept him away from the light. From Steve. They were one and the same to him.

He froze at the first unexpected rustle of sound, eyes wide as he cursed himself for thinking Steve would just… leave. Steve would never just leave him, he knew, yet he still hoped. Without looking up, he listened for the sparse hints of what Steve was doing by the door. Another rustle and a soft thud, fabric falling to the overly soft carpet, a tentative step, another fluttering rustle. Panic welled in him with each soft, barely audible step, but his eyes bore into the carpet at his feet, clouded only by the thick darkness.

Sudden warmth skimmed over his skin; he hadn’t bothered with clothes in far too long now and the cold air was more than familiar already. Lifting his head was a mistake and he recognized it as such as soon as he did it, but it was beyond his control. Fingers, long and gentle, grazed his jaw and his breath left him in a violent rush. That seemed to only encourage Steve to move, to touch further, press the palm of his hand against the cold cheek he touched so gently. His other hand joined in, mirroring the delicate motion and it felt like fire.

“Bucky…” he heard, whispered from above him like a soft prayer and it was all it took. His hands, so cold and not used to a gentle touch, reached out, grasped for the warmth within his reach. Steve exhaled in surprise as arms, human and metal alike, embraced him, warming immediately from the simple touch. He pulled Steve closer, as close as he could, lifting him onto the bed until thin legs spread around his hips. Fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer and closer, allowing him to bury his face against a warm chest and breathe for what felt like the first time.

Steve was on his knees, his thighs burning hot against Bucky’s sides, the entire length of Steve’s front warming Bucky’s body as if it were frozen only moments before. He was warmth, he was strength, he was the world in Bucky’s arms.

His lips pressed against Steve’s chest, gentle against protruding ribs and skin that could bruise from a mere touch. So much fire and life shoved into such a delicate package, threatening to break if Bucky held on too tight and how could he not hold on so tightly to the only chance for salvation he has? Steve holds onto him just as securely and Bucky feels lips on the crown of his head, a warm breath on his hair and fingers delicate against his skull.

His own body is one of strength, deadly and unforgiving, but weakness plagues him in every other regard, weakness only he can see. Weak of mind, soul, determination. Weak against Steve and his forgiveness and blind faith in all that’s good in Bucky. He doesn’t know that he himself is everything good in Bucky. So good even Bucky can’t allow himself to taint that, to dim that light until it’s too late.

“Don’t let go, Buck,” he’s told and how can he deny this one thing Steve wants, the one thing Steve’s asking for. So he holds on tighter and allows to be held just as tightly, by arms more forgiving than his own and he is once again weak when faced with Steve.

“Never,” was the only response he could utter as fingers curled under his chin, gently forcing him to move and look up, to see Steve in the darkness and let himself accept the touch of Steve’s lips to his own. He’d let Steve take anything he wanted from him so he pulled until Steve sat in his lap, clutching at his hair with more force than he used to press their lips together once more.

Even in the darkness that surrounded them, Bucky could see Steve’s face as clear as day, could see the lashes fanning over his cheeks as he let his eyes fall closed, could see the hair falling over his forehead and those lips parted just the tiniest bit. Bucky watched and let Steve press their foreheads together, felt fingers untangling from his hair to slide against his stubbly jaw. Steve touched him with a focused kind of gentleness, his eyes closed while he tried to see with the pads of his fingers, memorize the surfaces he caressed.

And Bucky could do nothing but hold on and observe, breathe in the warmth and burn in the sun shining from his arms.

 

 


End file.
